


Sephora

by 1candyangle



Series: A Modern Man [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Internalized Homophobia, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1candyangle/pseuds/1candyangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky loves women in lipstick. Bucky loves wearing lipstick. Bucky also loves Steve. Steve loves to fight, and is confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sephora

Bucky was having a great time. The girl in his arms was light as a feather as he spun her around in time with the music blasting from the band. The air in the hall was smoky and hot, and he could feel the heat and press of the crowd around them as everyone danced and laughed. He let his hand touch briefly high on her waist, thumb brushing against the side of her breast before he moved it back to a more respectable place. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes twinkled, painted lips smiling. He smirked back, leering a little, excited for her next move.

  
As she led him out the door, he quickly scanned the room and threw a big smile to Steve where he was awkwardly leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand. There was a brief smile on his face as Steve saluted with his whiskey before the doors to the dance hall closed behind Bucky and his date of the evening.

  
The pretty girl in front of him pulled Bucky forward all the way to her apartment, sending sly glances that made Bucky’s blood pound in his ears. Her lips were a bright red, beautiful and full. He could barely wait to get out of public and kiss her silly. Her brown curls were dark and her skin was as fair as his own. He could see her blushing to the tips of her ears and the tips of her collar bones in the gap of her shirt. Her bird-like fingers clutched at his, and he had to be as careful with his grip as he was with Steve’s fine bones.

  
When her door closed and cut them off from the hallway, he pulled her light body to his and pressed her close, hip to hip. He carefully placed a hand low on her back, as the other raised to her face. When their lips finally met, and he got his first taste of the waxy sheen of lipstick, he knew that he made the right choice.

  
Later on, he swaggered home – loose limbed and content – his hand in his pocket, gripping the stolen tube of red lip paint.

\---

It had started like most things in Bucky’s life – Steve getting his ass handed to him in a brawl with some brash idiot who had more muscle than brains. Bucky was beyond the point in his life where he bothered to even ask about the cause or the why or who or what. He just jumped right in and pulled the unlucky bastard off of his friend before wailing on the guy.

  
So they ended up dragging their asses away from the alley as usual, with Bucky’s knuckles split and Steve’s face bloodied. There was a mulish expression on Steve’s face, what could be only called a pout if Bucky didn’t have a shred of self-preservation left.

  
“You didn’t have to jump into that you know,” Steve pouted harder, “I could’ve handled it.”

  
Bucky snorted. “I know you could’ve, but I’d rather jump in than see you icing your face for three days. Don’t blame me for helping you end the fight early. You’ll find something else to fight about soon enough.”

  
The problem with Steve, Bucky figured, was that he was always fighting something. Fighting a bully, fighting an oppressive boss or even fighting his few friends from keeping him from fighting everything that wasn’t right. And if he wasn’t fighting with his fist, he was fighting his own stupidly fragile body and all the bullshit people spilled on him because he wasn’t the perfect human specimen. It was easy for Bucky to ignore that rhetoric because Steve was perfect in ways that matter more than looks and Bucky might have a handsome and strong body but his mind and morals were another story.

  
Steve limped along in life with the biggest chip on his shoulder because of his fear of his weak body and the obnoxious dickheads of the world. At the same time, Bucky smirked and hid his obscene thoughts behind hard work and dancing with girls. He was always a bit twisted inside; loving girls and their beauty and loving men and their harsh edges. The truth of the matter is Steve was all harsh edges. He never minced words and never let anyone get away with anything. Bucky knew the reason why his little Stevie never got the girl wasn’t because of his size or his health, it was his plain bad attitude. No girl wants a guy who doesn’t even know what sweet is.

  
Too bad Bucky wasn’t a girl, or else all their problems would be solved. He doesn’t need sweet from Steve, and he has the body to do all the hard work when Steve can’t. Plus, if he was a girl then his thoughts wouldn’t be obscene – he could be with Steve, and have beauty at the same time. He would have to give up girls but having Steve would more than make up for missing out on dancing and softer bodies.

  
Too bad Bucky is a man and loves having a prick.

  
It was nice to pretend in the comfort of his own head that he could be feminine and graceful. He thought of the nice stockings Cecile down the street had on the other night, how good and smooth they made her legs look. Layering on top, he remembered the soft flow of her skirt as it hugged her curves before it fell to the floor, followed by her top. Her undergarments were purely structural, not meant to titillate only hide her secret places. Bucky wouldn’t look nearly as good as she did. His arms are muscled, his chest hairy and his angles all sharp. The only thing he knew he liked for sure was lipstick.

  
When he first started to kiss girls, he would always check in the mirror afterwards. Their paint would smudge onto his own lips, making them look soft and red and bruised. Once, he didn’t wash it off after making time with a girl and Steve blushed so hard at the sight of Bucky that it had given him hope, deep in his chest that Steve would like him one day in the same obscene way that Bucky thought of his friend. After that Bucky had taken to wearing lipstick on the rare nights in with just himself with the tubes stolen from various purses. He had a collection of different reds; dried blood dark shades to clown red. They were hidden from sight deep in a box of old things from his parent’s place.

  
Bucky glanced over quickly at Steve as they slowly made their way up the stairs to their shared apartment. His cheek was purpling into a nasty bruise and his nose would need to be set again. Bucky slowed his pace even more, fumbling through his pockets for a cigarette just as an excuse not to walk faster than Steve. The man could get prickly about things like that. He lit up and drew a breath of smoky goodness, breathing out away from Steve, taking his time to enjoy the relaxing effects that pulsed through his lungs and woke up his body. The thrum of pain from the fight and his wandering mind had given him a semi, which he was trying his best to ignore as Steve opened their door and stepped through.

  
Bucky didn’t let his eyes wander down Steve’s back, practicing restraint. Steve wouldn’t want Bucky drooling over his body. He followed Steve to the kitchen and let the little guy bully him into a chair, where Steve sat across with the small first aid kit of iodine and bandages.

  
“Steve, pal. I think we should set your nose again first. The guy didn’t land a punch on me.” Bucky pointed this out. “Your face on the other hand looks like shit.”

  
Steve glared, thrusting out his chin. “Thanks. I don’t care if he hit your face or not, your hands are a mess. I won’t let my fights be the reason you can’t use your hands anymore.” There was a slight whistle to his words, air pushed out from his busted nose.

  
Bucky just sighed, not having the energy to argue. The faster Steve took care of his hands, the faster Bucky could set his nose, he reasoned.

  
Steve’s hands were gentle and cold. They felt good against his palms as Steve washed away the dried blood and scrapped skin. His hands were steady as he applied iodine, and he efficiently wrapped up Bucky’s knuckles with practiced ease. Once he was done a smile finally came to his face, brightening up the room like sunshine. Bucky helplessly smiled back, his heart pounding again. He got to settling Steve’s injuries with a soft reverence. Bucky wished he was allowed to kiss Steve’s injuries better, his nose, cheek, lips. He used warm touches of his hands instead, hoping and dreading that Steve feels how much love he has for him with his actions.

  
Once they were both settled, they migrated to their usual routine. Steve claimed the arm chair and grabbed his sketch book, while Bucky unceremoniously puckered himself down on the hard floor with a sci-fi pulp novel. Bucky felt warm and content, sharing the space with Steve in comfortable silence. His semi still persisted, but his loose trousers hid him well enough. He still curled over a bit on his side, bunching his knees to stop even the slightest bulge from showing. Maybe he would go out tonight, later, and find a dancing partner. He could see about the brunette from last week, bring her some flowers and sweet talk her into his arms again. She might have a friend for Steve even.

  
Bucky’s eyes wandered off the page of his book and soaked up the sight of Steve drawing. Bucky wished again he wouldn’t be decked if he made a move on Steve. Steve was always very clear to the assholes of the world that just because he was small, he was still a man. More than one guy at the dock has been hit by Steve for making an unwanted move against him.

  
Maybe if Bucky was wearing lipstick, Steve wouldn’t feel like he was being made fun of for his smaller size. No, Bucky thought, if he wore lipstick around Steve, he would be supportive and wouldn’t judge Bucky for anything other than his sticky fingers. Lipstick wouldn’t make Bucky look like a girl Steve would go after. But maybe it would be nice to have Steve complement him in his stuttering way like he does when he tries to say something sweet to a girl. Maybe it would be good to not have this secret. Steve wouldn’t hate Bucky for wanting lipstick. Steve would only hate Bucky for wanting Steve.

  
Steve glanced over the edge of the sketch book and smiled, stretching out his split lip painfully. There was no stopping the returning grin on Bucky’s face. He knew he looked like a fool, curled on the ground grinning up at his best friend. Bucky was hot, still and itching for a fight or fuck or anything other than this stupid pinning.

  
“Hey Stevie – wanna go dancing tonight?”

  
Steve’s smile disappeared. He turned away, frowning at his sketch book. “Not really, Buck. My face is a mess so no girl is going to look at me anyways, and I don’t feel like standing at the bar all night waiting for you to disappear with a dame and not come back.” Steve looked back at Bucky quickly and sent him a quick, self-depreciating smile. “You go on your own, I won’t wait up.”

  
Disappointment set deep into Bucky’s stomach. “It’s always more fun with you there. We could both use a drink or two, and I’m sure the brunette I was with last week has a nice sister. Don’t give up before you even try.”

  
Anger flashed in Steve’s eyes. He never wanted to be a quitter after all. “Sorry for not wanting to watch you dance with all the pretty ladies, standing beside everyone else wishing to just be with you.”

  
Bucky’s eyes widened.

  
“What I meant,” Steve stammered, “was standing beside all the girls who, that is - the girls, who want to be with you. Not with me.”

  
Bucky licked his lips, and caught Steve glancing down at them quickly. He cleared his throat, light headed suddenly.

  
“So, you want to stay in instead?” Bucky felt his heart pulsing, adrenaline scoring through his body. There was a sharp ache in his stomach, and he knew either way he was going to put on lipstick tonight. Bucky wasn’t a quitter either.

  
Steve blushed, skin turning the same colour as it did when he was angry. His mouth turned down, mulish, pouty.

  
“I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

  
“I can have just as much fun here with you, Stevie, if you let me.” Bucky said. Steve just looked confused, not ready to punch yet.

  
Bucky felt dizzy with the chance he was taking. This could go so wrong. He could lose Steve. He could lose his reputation. His secret will come out. What if it didn’t look as good as it made Bucky feel?

  
What if Bucky ends up looking disgusting to Steve?

  
“Be right back.” Bucky bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door closed as he dove under the bed to grab his box of makeup. He could still back down. He could grab the pack of cards and pretend that was what he wanted to do, not cover his lips in red paint and see if Steve will stare at him hungrily.

  
He grabbed the newest shade, the one taken from the brunette. It looked so good on her and they have the same colouring. Bucky hadn’t had the chance to try it on himself yet. He pulled off the lid and gently turned the tube. A deep red colour appeared, smeared only a little from previous uses. Bucky rubbed his lips with his fingers, wiping off his own spit, picking the skin smooth. He grabbed a small mirror and gently pressed the tip of the stick to his bottom lip. The drag across covered his natural pink colour and replaced it with the new shade. He pouted, and covered the rest smoothly.

  
The results brought his semi to full hardness. The tackiness of the lipstick felt amazing when he rubbed his lips together. His lips stood out on his face, dark and lustful looking. The heat coursing through his body gave his cheeks a matching dark blush. Bucky still looked like a man, face rough from not shaving since the morning, but there was a small sense of being pretty. Feeling pretty. Pretty as any of the girls at the hall. Pretty and feminine and wanted. As long as Steve didn’t laugh.

  
Blushing, Bucky brushed off imaginary dirt off his clothes and stepped back into the living room.

  
Steve was were Bucky left him, perched in the arm chair. His face was down and puzzled until he noticed Bucky back in the room. Steve’s eyes widened when he saw what Bucky put on. His mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. The purpling cheek stayed unchanged in colour, but a warm pink flush shot across Steve’s nose to both his ears, following down his neck to disappear under his shirt. His stare was stuck on Bucky’s lips, and Steve licked his own as if in a trance.

  
“So,” Bucky began, bracing himself for the worst, not daring to hope for the best. “What do you think of this lipstick colour?”

  
“Oh God, Bucky.” Steve sounded choked. “Where. I mean.” He paused, looking shy. “I like it.”

  
Bucky felt like an electric shock had gone through him. Steve liked it. Steve isn’t going to hit him. Steve looked more confused than angry, and Bucky won’t try to guess what the look in Steve’s eyes meant as that way might lead to pain. One step at a time, Barnes.

  
“Good.” Bucky stumbled, trying to play cool. “I like it too. The lipstick I mean, I like to wear it.”

  
“Okay.” The blush on both their skins was red hot. They stood, standing there, waiting for the other to make his first move. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should go back to his book like nothing happened or if he should tell Steve more about how and when and all the other secrets tied to his lips. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should kiss Steve like all his instincts are screaming at him to. To share his lipstick with Steve, be a pretty feminine guy for one night and ask Steve to be his, like the pretty soft girls ask always Bucky.

  
“Is it,” Steve started. He paused again, obviously trying to find words. His face turned serious, non-judging. “Is it just lipstick?”

  
“Lipstick is all I’ve tried.” Bucky could barely breathe.

  
Steve’s determined face, soft as stone. “Bucky, you are my best friend. I – I wouldn’t make fun of you for this ever. You know I don’t listen to those jerks who say – who say mean things about people just living their lives.” He took a big, deep breath, face still red as anything. “What else would you like to try?”

  
Heart hammering, Bucky walked towards the chair. When Steve didn’t move, lean back or flinch, he timidly settled down on Steve’s lap, knees braced beside the smaller man’s hips, no weight pressing him down. Steve kept eye contact, visibly trembling but not fighting, not retreating.

  
Bucky took a deep breath, holding himself inches up off of his most important person in the world.

  
“I want to kiss you.”

  
At those words, Steve seemed to wake up. He surged forward, grabbing Bucky by the neck and pulled him into a hard kiss. Lipstick smeared across both their lips, moving past the lip line and rubbing into the skin at the sides of their mouths. Furiously paced, Bucky panted into Steve’s mouth as he moaned and squirmed on top, trying to devour each other with their lips and tongues. Steve’s hand on his neck kept Bucky from moving anywhere except where Steve wanted him to be. Bucky braced himself against Steve’s shoulders, rough hands gripping his suspender straps.

  
Steve roughly pulled back Bucky’s head, forcing him to bare his throat. Bucky cried out at the teeth and harsh kisses Steve started to lay on his neck. No girl had ever taken Bucky apart like this, he thought to himself. Only Steve could take care of Bucky like this, the obscene way Bucky had always fantasied about. Bucky absently licked at his sore mouth, tasting the waxy smears. Bucky felt lustful, pretty.

  
He looked down through lidded eyes as best as he could with Steve’s harsh grasp on his neck. Steve’s hair was tousled, thin strands standing up everywhere. His eyes were closed in pleasure, lips pressed to Bucky’s pulse, stinging him with bites and kisses and sucks. Bucky couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Everything he hoped for.

  
“Steve, Steve, Stevie, please, I need more, let me please.”

  
Steve groaned. He pulled his face back, staring up at Bucky with pupils blown wide. The red of the lipstick was smeared around his mouth obscenely, too dark for his complexion. His nose was properly swollen from the earlier fight. Bucky wanted all of him, always.

  
“Buck, Bucky. What do you need? Tell me what you need.”

  
“I need you, let me please. Let me have you.”

  
Bucky moved his hand down Steve’s suspenders to where they connected to his pants, before he moved over and cupped his cock. Bucky rubbed firmly as Steve arched with a cry. Bucky slid down to the floor in as smooth of movement as he was able to make, and unbuttoned Steve’s pants with sore fingers.

  
Steve moaned loudly, head thrown back when Bucky first got his hands around him. Bucky was so turned on, finally feeling Steve. This was nothing like the girls, and completely different from taking care of his own needs. He wanted nothing more than this to be completely mind-blowing for Steve. Bucky took a deep breath, caught Steve’s eyes, and kissed his cock with his red stained lips.

  
Noises and pleading spilled from Steve’s lips, gibberish mismatch of Bucky’s name, the Lord’s, prayers and blasphemy and swears. Bucky could hardly understand it, concentrating on the weight and feel of Steve. He was surrounded by Steve. His thighs pressed trembling against Bucky’s ears, his hand on his head gripping his hair, his scent in his nose as Bucky took him deeper and deeper until his lips touched the soft blonde hair of his small stomach. Bucky was dying and he hoped some of Steve’s prayers flowing out of his panting monologue were for Bucky’s soul, that Bucky would go to a heaven as wonderful as this moment.

  
Bucky was pressed so tight against his own pants, hard for hours now. He gave Steve a hard suck, one hand caressing his soft balls while his other hand moved down to grip himself still trapped. It took just a quick touch plus the feeling of Steve spurting against the back of Bucky’s throat before he came in his pants like a teenager.

  
Bucky swallowed the bitter load before resting his head against Steve’s belly, panting hard.

  
“Holy shit, Bucky.”

  
Bucky smirked to himself. He wondered how hard it will be to find ladies underthings that would fit him and match his lipstick.

**Author's Note:**

> So, first foray into this type of scene. I love Seb Stan's lips, so this is purely based on those thoughts. I may add more - because I see this not ending at just lipstick, and I wouldn't mind seeing Bucky in a man bun all dolled up. Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
